Something about ghosts in the fall
Wednesday, September 05, 2012
I am smarter in the early- to mid-fall, so I'm waiting for that to fully kick in. I read that scientists have found that if you want to be happy, have cool air blown up your nose. Happy. Warm air up your nose: Less happy.
Also, I'm writing a new book, and I won't mention ghosts in it once, even though I already did (oops).
My mom says, "What is it with you and ghosts?" And I say, "I don't know." Then I say something about the early twentieth century and free-floating anxiety. She seems to understand, or at least to understand that that's how my mind works. We are standing in a room in a Hampton Inn in North Carolina when this conversation happens. That's where the ghost might have been.
Later I agree to go with her to Hardee's so she can eat a biscuit and gravy and I can eat a biscuit with jam and an orange juice. I tell her that at my previous job, I kept doing things like filling in for tenure-track faculty who would go on mysterious medical leave without telling their independent study honors students what to do. I'm not sure anyone noticed the extra work I did, besides the students.
One time I put in a request with the department secretary to get a screen put on my office window. I told her that a squirrel kept looking at me from the ledge and threatening to steal the lunch out of my hands. The secretary laughed then in a way that made me feel both foolish and appreciated. That job came with a time limit, but I miss the students, many of them.
This all seems to have to do with whether I'm secretly appreciated or haunted or not. That's how I feel in the fall when cool air circulates through my nostrils and lungs and around my body. Secretly appreciated. Affably haunted.